


The Other Side of the Rain

by lipstick_asexual



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:15:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27974285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lipstick_asexual/pseuds/lipstick_asexual
Summary: In this time and age when anyone can publish anything, I present you this abomination that I was sitting on for years. It is the JSAMN - HP crossover only I needed, but now you get it too.Severus Snape meets a mysterious gentleman several times which helps him get closure and a good, well-deserved happy ending.
Kudos: 9





	The Other Side of the Rain

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language, so I'd like to apologize in advance for the butchering of the language and punctuation, especially. I can punctuate very well in my own language, I swear, but they've never taught us how to write a literally piece in any other language, so that's that. Sorry again. 
> 
> I also don't know shit about tarot cards, except that I like those pick a card videos on YouTube and I googled card meanings, but they can have completely different meanings based on which site I was searching on, so... may the sky crumble on me if I've offended it.

He was well into his 4th year when he first met him. To be honest, it wasn’t a proper meeting, unless you consider catching someone’s presence in the corner of your eye an informal introduction. It happened several times, but regarding that the figures on magical paintings came and went as they pleased and that in Hogwarts there were at least a hundred paintings on the walls, Severus paid no great attention to the strange man whose portrait occasionally followed him through the corridors.

They only spoke once, in Severus’s 7th year and even then, he forgot in his rush back to the library, that the man who told him in a thick Northerner accent he was concentrating on the wrong question under his painting when he was studying for his History of Magic N.E.W.T., was the same who sometimes appeared and disappeared from his sight for years now.

‘And you are-‘ asked Severus grumpily, gathering his books from the corridor floor.

‘Just a portrait of a man, as you can well observe.’ answered the man, leaning on the frame, then casually walking out somewhere where Severus couldn’t follow him.

Years passed when Severus finally realized that this was not an acceptable answer from a portrait, even from a magical one. Portraits were constructed memories and habits and fragments of a personality, but they were barely aware of what they were. However, this realization came to him in a sleepy morning which was followed by a chaotic school day and a long, dull staff meeting and thus, Severus Snape did not count this thought as a very important one.

Until he met the portrait again.

It happened in 1993, the year which was famous for the escape of Sirius Black, who once went on a killing spree which everybody knew about and who once attempted murder on Severus which no one heard about at all. It would have been enough for him to avoid deep sleep and to look around every corner but Severus Snape was famous for attracting hardships and so hardships came to him in packs. 1993 was the year when Harry Potter’s hormones decided that it was time to start throwing fits and to disobey as often as it was allowed; it was the year when Black decided it was time to reach out to his family and it happened not-so-accidentally that all his remaining friends and family were residing in Hogwarts. It was the year when Severus had to tame his almost uncontrollable feelings to just spit Lupin in the face, write a long essay on how he endangered everyone around him, publish it in the next Daily Prophet, quit his job and move to Norway, to a hut, in the middle of a forest, where no one will bother him ever again.

So, understandably, when he heard giggling girls on the corridor about the portrait of “the fine guy on the 7th floor” who was also known as “the leaning tower of York” and “you know, the one who can help you in your History of Magic essays if you trade him a historical curiosity”, he paid almost no attention to it, except to disband the group and send them to class, with the loss of 10 points to their respective houses.

Another week had to pass[1] to remember his very similar experience with the portrait of the man who was indeed leaning to the frame and helped him to expand his historical knowledge. Or, at least, he attempted to.

So the next time he decided to patrol the corridors as all responsible staff member should have done voluntarily in his opinion, he happened to find himself on a different route and ended up in front of the portrait of the man who he talked to precisely once in his life and had no idea what they should talk about this second time.

The portrait of the man was asleep, still leaning to the frame, as if he knew no other position to exist with. Severus didn’t really want to wake him up, so he tried to observe the painting first.

The man slept before a dark olive background which barely contained anything. In fact, at first sight it was a simple green background which contained only a small reading desk, but the more he looked at it, the more he started to notice. It seemed like behind the background there was a tree – an unnaturally twisted, big, grim hawthorn tree –and above it a flock of ravens, looking like a dark tower on the sky. Something was hanging from the tree and at first Severus thought it was a corpse, but if it was indeed a body, it was a very content one – it seemed to smile and wave at the observer, but maybe it was just the green paint that twisted its expressions.

He had to step back to snap out of the mysterious details and shook his head to clear his thoughts. This time everything looked normal, the tree and the ravens and the happy dead man disappeared and all the grim looking landscape with them. Everything was covered with the dark olive paint again. Now he had time to observe the man himself.

He seemed to be around his age, maybe a bit older, but no more than forty. His hair was dark and a similar expression lingered around his pale face, although Severus couldn’t be sure while the man was asleep. Similarly, he had trouble to find any trace of “fineness” on the man – his clothes were clean but worn, his fingernails were dirty and his hair was messy and almost ragged. Considering the state of Severus’ own appearance and that he has never been called handsome in his life, he only found it right that the giggling girls were wrong and the man was not fine looking at all.[2] There was no hint whether the man was a historian or a murderer, or that the man once had a name: the frame was completely empty.

And since Severus Snape was indeed awkward when it came to basic politeness in dire situations and above all else, pursued knowledge over relationships, he had a passing thought that the best way to find out the man’s identity was to take the picture from the wall and turn it over – which thought was followed by the aforementioned act and a curse from the man’s portrait who was woken up by the sudden change in his position.

“Beg your pardon,” said Severus who was quite afflicted by the sudden flow of cursing and humbly put the picture back into its place.

“What on earth were you thinking?” said the leaning man.

“I was just wondering… Are you a historian?”

“Depends on how you describe a historian.”

“How else could you? There’s only one description…”

“Yes, yes, of course. However, you might consider me quite an… otherworldly expert on history of magic,” said the man and leaned back on the frame. He seemed quite entertained, although the suppressed smile on his face could have either been delighted and mocking. Severus couldn’t decide which one it was. 

“Is that so?” scoffed Severus. “So you are, in fact, NOT a historian at all.”

“Maybe I am. Maybe I am not. I might be, if I wished to be, however, I’d rather call myself an experimental magician.”

“An ex—a magician?” laughed Severus mockingly. “So what do you know about the history of magic? The history of missing bunnies from the hat? The tradition of never-ending scarves?

“You’re very eager to share your knowledge on things you’d better hide, Young Master Snape. If I were you, I wouldn’t even imply I know anything about Muggle magicians,”smiled the man.

Severus’ face turned red and it was both from shame and anger.

“How dare you – “ he hissed and stepped closer to the painting. The man on the picture, however, remained undisturbed.

“I meant no offense, Professor. I just happen to know a great deal about you.” smiled the man with his unreadable smile.

“Is that so? May I ask how you know these things?” asked Snape who gathered himself a little bit and decided the best tactic to find out what the man wanted was to trade him personal information – unimportant ones, of course.

The man stared at him for a moment, contemplating whether to share his methods, then reached into his pockets and pulled out an ancient pack of cards. It would be a lie to say that Severus tried not to laugh – he did not try at all; instead, a malevolent grin appeared on his face and called the man and his cards everything unpleasant he could think of. However, the man just shuffled his deck tirelessly and did not pay any attention to the Potion’s Master’s insults.

At last, he finished and one by one he drew 9 cards and placed them on the small desk: first, The Moon, the Nine of Swords and The Tower; then under them another row with The Devil, the Eight of Wands and The Chariot, and at last, another three: The Death, The Hermit reversed and The Magician.

The man stared at the cards for a while, in one moment looking confused, in another one to be in awe; then he scoffed and muttered:

“Well, aren’t you special…”

Severus turned red again, but this time he was more shy than angry and looked at the cards and the man questioningly.

“Why do you think –“ he wanted to ask, but the man was quicker.

“He was right about you. You will have a role in all of this.”

Severus wanted to ask who made such inquires about him and what would be the case he would have a role in, but he decided not to mention any of his roles in Dumbledore’s plan and to listen to this man. Maybe he had something to tell about the war, after all. Or about Black.

The man glanced at him, waiting for a hint of resistance, but Severus was listening, so he started to tell what the cards meant to him.

“This is your life, you see. The first three cards show your past”, he pointed to the upper row, “which, as far as I can tell, was not pleasant at all. I believe we had quite similar experiences… have you grown up in poverty? Did your family hurt you?”

Severus did not answer but from the expression on his face the man could tell he was right.

“I can also tell something drastic happened to you not long ago” he continued, looking at the Tower. “It ended your youth and made a difference for you. By looking at your present, this change was not pleasant at all.”

He looked at Severus again who was still silent, although it seemed he wanted to say something. Which was, in fact, true.

Severus wanted to say many things. First, that the man’s methods were quite unscientific thus couldn’t be taken seriously by any sane man. Second, that he had no right to look upon his life, even by these crude, ridiculous, childish things like this deck of ancient cards. Especially by these things. It was an insult to even think about it. But still, he was intrigued, even if this reading seemed quite average and did not tell anything specific about Severus’ life. So he let the man continue.

“Please, do tell me more, oh, mighty magician”, he smirked and if the man would have been a living and breathing person, he would have slapped him. But he was just a painting who now quite regretted to offer his knowledge to this rude young man so he stayed still and looked at the cards again.

It was time to understand the second row, the Present as the man interpreted it.

“Well, as I said, your present did not turn out pleasant.” he said “You are trapped here, forced to do something you do not like at all.” he pointed to the Devil. Looking at Severus’ bittersweet half-smile, he continued “Although things will change. Even if you will have no say in it.”

“What do you mean?” Severus asked finally.

“This card shows, he showed the Eight of Wands to Severus “that inevitable change is coming and it is already in motion.”

Severus’ heart skipped a beat. Was the man talking about the Dark Lord?

“What kind of change?’ he asked and the man looked at the third card in the row.

“I believe something you were planning for a long time now. The Chariot means things will go according to the plan, but considering it is preceded by two unpleasant cards, I cannot fathom why you would plan such bad things for yourself.”

Severus did not answer. The man’s gaze lingered on him for a while, then he turned his attention to the third, last row of the reading. He was staring at the card of Death, then at Severus, then at the card again – but after that he decided to just skip that card and said nothing about it.

“You will succeed, but you will be alone with your success,” he continued. “How this loneliness will appear in your life, I cannot know. But still…” – he looked at the last card – “you will become this.” and he pointed at the Magician.

“A magician! How fitting.” grinned Snape. “Will I become an annoying portrait as well?”

The man did not respond, which annoyed Severus a slightly bit – he was used to having his sarcasm acknowledged, if not always appreciated.

“Won’t you tell about who will die?” he pointed to the Death card.

The man shook his head.

“No, Young Master Snape. It’s no concern of yours. You will become a magician, whether you like it or not.” and with that, he turned around to leave his portrait.

“Wait! Who are you?” asked Snape, anxious about blowing his cover in the future, although the better part of his didn’t believe the man knew anything about what he does.

“John Childermass.” said the man, looking back over his shoulder.

“Why are you here?”

“I’m just watching. Looking out for people.”

“Were you sent to look out for me?”

“Maybe.” shrugged the man named Childermass.

“And who asked you to look after me?”

Snape started to become anxious again. If anyone had the slightest suspicion about his allegiance… But it seemed he had no reason to be afraid.

“I will tell you when you become this.” the man pointed to the Magician. “But let me ask something else. Weren’t your mother a Prince?” he asked.

“How do you know? You picked the card of the Prince?” Severus laughed.

“No, not at all.” smiled the strange man. “A little bird told me.”

Then he turned his back on Severus and left the painting, never to be seen again on the corridors of Hogwarts and leaving a very confused Potions’ Master behind.

***

He tried to keep the blood in as much as he could but it escaped through his fingers and he couldn’t stop it.

“At least I can hold my dignity.” he thought but he was choking on blood and as much as he tried, the gurgling and whimpering also flood out of his throat, leaving him miserable and less and less like a proud man. Potter was there and he wanted to give everything important to him, but Potter was a dunderhead and he was afraid he wouldn’t understand what he wanted to give him.

Everything was flooding out. Blood, life, memories. Potter’s eyes were green. He wanted to pretend he was looking at Lily, and it worked for a moment, but the green turned deeper and deeper, the eyes disappeared and there was green everywhere. Green, like forests. Green, like bog water. Green, with a hanging tree. Then everything went dark.

When he woke up, he was lying on the moors and the Sun was shining on his face. The sunlight had the colour of peace.

“What an impossible colour.” he thought, but he understood its meaning.

The clouds were eager to know him and the sky spoke to him and he understood its intention. He was at home, like never before. This should have been Hogwarts. This should have been his house, his friends, his career and yet none of them offered him anything but bitterness.

The clouds formed a shadow on the land and the shadow moved closer with every thought of his, until a man stepped out of it. He looked familiar. He wore an ancient black coat but held his head high. He looked no more than 40 but he felt a thousand years old. He looked at him in a way that made Severus uncomfortably piercing but he knew the man was here for him, not against him.

“It’s him.” said the sky. “The king’s steward.”

Severus stood up and dusted himself off.

“This must be Purgatory.” he said to the man, who seemed surprised of his deduction.

“Why do you believe that?”

“It’s too nice to be hell and yet here I am, with you. A magician.”

Childermass smiled an uncomfortable smile.

“Don’t get me wrong, it’s better than I’ve expected.” Snape said quickly.

“What did you expect?” asked the steward magician.

“A martial court, perhaps.” said Snape. “ Definitely not this, with the curious clouds and the talking sky.”

“ _Definitely not with you_.” he thought but he decided not say this out loud.

Childermass looked at him with his piercing stare again and he was sure he was searching his thoughts, although it was different than simple legilimency. It felt ancient and more natural and more powerful, like standing in front of something eternal, being unable to lie. He suddenly felt very small and powerless and his mood became the fragrance of a hurt child.

Childermass smiled mockingly, but stopped checking on his thoughts, so Snape had a moment of relief.

“Why are you here? Why _am I_ here?” he asked.

Childermass shrugged and avoided the question. He might not know the answer himself. This place was just here. They were here. For what reason, they had to figure out themselves.

“The card of Death told me you will be a murderer.” he said instead.

“So that’s why you skipped it back then.”

“Yes, that’s right. You did not need to hear that.”

They both fell silent for a while. Then Childermass broke the silence.

“It was none of your fault, in my opinion. My king thinks the same.”

“Is he the one who sent you after me?”

Childermass stayed silent for a second, which made Severus anxious, but the sky leaned closer to him and told him not to fret. It was his land as well. He had a place here and he was protected.

“He sent me to look for magicians. Children of heart and mind, out of starlight. You were one of them, your family is one them, only you were weak and let me tell you, your world does not encourage true magic.”

Snape sensed no lie in his words, but it was hard to shed sarcasm only because he was dead now and unthreatened for the first time in a very long time.

“So we’re back to card tricks?” he laughed and his laughter carried knives here.

“No.” said Childermass “But you can sense the difference, can’t you? Look around and tell me that being one with the world, talking to the sky and willing words to become weapons is weaker, that learning things that are just mere shadows of what true magic is more. Your wizards failed you. Your masters lied to you. Real magic can shatter and rebuild the world. And you are part of this world.”

As he spoke, Childermass became bigger and bigger, growing like a threatening shadow which covered the land and energized the sky and Severus was afraid that if he’s still alive, he will surely die here. But Childermass calmed down, shrinked back to his size and smile softly and proudly, like never before.

“You have reached the other side of the rain. Come now, I’ll take you to my king. He’ll teach you how to become a real Prince of this world.”

He reached out his hand and after a moment of hesitation, Severus Snape took it.

The sky was shedding tears of joy and changed into the colour of hope. Another lost boy returned home.

[1] Severus Snape was a brilliant man when it came to academic knowledge and inventions, but regarding his perception of everyday life and socializing, he was quite a dull fellow.

[2] As many times when it came to socializing, Severus Snape was deeply mistaken. Although both Severus and the leaning man had an aura that prevented many not just to mess with them but also to gaze upon them longer than it was considered socially acceptable, many found that trait quite appealing. It was quite unfortunate that this very aura also prevented everyone to express their sympathies and affections towards Severus. The leaning man had a different problem: although he received many romantic confessions through the years, he was just a painting, after all.


End file.
